"Thank you, Lord Culhane."
Across the room, Sean felt the warmth of the radiant look Catherine gave his brother like a twist in his gut. When Liam turned to escort her from the hall, Sean uncoiled to his feet. His voice rang out, "It would be rude, brother, to steal the wench away before she has been introduced. Surely you don't mean to keep so fine a piece to yourself."
Flushing with anger, Liam stopped in his tracks. Feeling Catherine's fingers tighten convulsively on his arm as he altered course, he slowly walked her to the head of the table. "We'll have to brazen it out now," he whispered. "If we don't stay, you will appear to be going to my bed."
"But if they believe I'm your mistress, they might leave me alone!"
"You may yet go home again, my lady. Now, these people can only guess about my brother's relationship with you, but were I to compromise you publicly, your reputation would never be secure." He covered her hand on his arm with his own. "Don't worry. I'll get you out of the room as soon as possible."
Heads craned as the pair made their way through the room. Most of the spectators were merely curious about the irons, but true to Flannery's prophecy, some of the men who had seen the captive's courage on the cliff were angry, and a wave of murmurs rose in her wake.
Sean watched the couple with a grim smile as he thought angrily, Damn it, how does the wench contrive to give irons the effect of a virgin's nightgown? Half the men v would flatten out and let her trip her dainty feet across their backsides!
As Liam started to seat her at the table, Sean stood and raised his wineglass in a mocking toast. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Lady Catherine Denise Enderly, comtesse de Vigny. You may have heard of her father, General John Richmond Enderly. As adjutant to the governor general some years ago, he did much to relieve Ireland of her excess population. To your continued good health, my lady!" He drained the glass, flung it to the floor, and ground it under his heel. Aware of her barely controlled panic, he gazed mockingly at the crowd. "You should see yourselves gawk. Have none of you seen an English blue- blood before? Well then, you'll have a eloser look!" His arm swept down the table and Catherine jerked back, thinking he was about to tear at her clothes, but his hand locked around a pitcher of wine and thrust it at her. "Take up your duties, Countess. They want a look at you."
"Lady Enderly has no duties," Liam said firmly. "I've promised her my protection."
"You wasted your breath, brother."
Liam whitened. His hand twitched, then moved for his dagger. Unarmed, Sean tensed, ready to dash the pitcher in Liam's face and relieve him of his weapon. Feeling Liam's convulsive movement, Catherine tightened her grip. "No, please! You must not, my lord." Her voice lifted with defiance. "As your brother says, too much blood has been spilled in Ireland, though he slanders my father as the cause. He shall have no excuse to malign Enderly honor further."
Tucking the ball under an arm, she pulled the pitcher from Sean's grasp with surprising force and surveyed with saccharine mockery the seated men who had not risen in her presence. "Please, don't disturb yourselves, gentlemen." Some of the younger ones had the grace to flush as she sauntered off. Liam dropped into his chair with a furious look at his brother, who returned it unwinkingly.
As Catherine filled the tankards of the silent, fidgeting men at the nearest table, Irene and Milly quickly took her lead and began to joke with their patrons. By the time Catherine had refilled the pitcher a few times from large casks of wine and ale set about the room, the racket had resumed its normal level, much of it caused by lively discussion of the open antagonism between the Culhanes.
At length, although the men were becoming drunk and boisterous and their women acquiescent, she dared not reenter the tinderbox atmosphere of the Culhane table. The men subdued their coarse
Across the room, Sean felt the warmth of the radiant look Catherine gave his brother like a twist in his gut. When Liam turned to escort her from the hall, Sean uncoiled to his feet. His voice rang out, "It would be rude, brother, to steal the wench away before she has been introduced. Surely you don't mean to keep so fine a piece to yourself."
Flushing with anger, Liam stopped in his tracks. Feeling Catherine's fingers tighten convulsively on his arm as he altered course, he slowly walked her to the head of the table. "We'll have to brazen it out now," he whispered. "If we don't stay, you will appear to be going to my bed."
"But if they believe I'm your mistress, they might leave me alone!"
"You may yet go home again, my lady. Now, these people can only guess about my brother's relationship with you, but were I to compromise you publicly, your reputation would never be secure." He covered her hand on his arm with his own. "Don't worry. I'll get you out of the room as soon as possible."
Heads craned as the pair made their way through the room. Most of the spectators were merely curious about the irons, but true to Flannery's prophecy, some of the men who had seen the captive's courage on the cliff were angry, and a wave of murmurs rose in her wake.
Sean watched the couple with a grim smile as he thought angrily, Damn it, how does the wench contrive to give irons the effect of a virgin's nightgown? Half the men v would flatten out and let her trip her dainty feet across their backsides!
As Liam started to seat her at the table, Sean stood and raised his wineglass in a mocking toast. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Lady Catherine Denise Enderly, comtesse de Vigny. You may have heard of her father, General John Richmond Enderly. As adjutant to the governor general some years ago, he did much to relieve Ireland of her excess population. To your continued good health, my lady!" He drained the glass, flung it to the floor, and ground it under his heel. Aware of her barely controlled panic, he gazed mockingly at the crowd. "You should see yourselves gawk. Have none of you seen an English blue- blood before? Well then, you'll have a eloser look!" His arm swept down the table and Catherine jerked back, thinking he was about to tear at her clothes, but his hand locked around a pitcher of wine and thrust it at her. "Take up your duties, Countess. They want a look at you."
"Lady Enderly has no duties," Liam said firmly. "I've promised her my protection."
"You wasted your breath, brother."
Liam whitened. His hand twitched, then moved for his dagger. Unarmed, Sean tensed, ready to dash the pitcher in Liam's face and relieve him of his weapon. Feeling Liam's convulsive movement, Catherine tightened her grip. "No, please! You must not, my lord." Her voice lifted with defiance. "As your brother says, too much blood has been spilled in Ireland, though he slanders my father as the cause. He shall have no excuse to malign Enderly honor further."
Tucking the ball under an arm, she pulled the pitcher from Sean's grasp with surprising force and surveyed with saccharine mockery the seated men who had not risen in her presence. "Please, don't disturb yourselves, gentlemen." Some of the younger ones had the grace to flush as she sauntered off. Liam dropped into his chair with a furious look at his brother, who returned it unwinkingly.
As Catherine filled the tankards of the silent, fidgeting men at the nearest table, Irene and Milly quickly took her lead and began to joke with their patrons. By the time Catherine had refilled the pitcher a few times from large casks of wine and ale set about the room, the racket had resumed its normal level, much of it caused by lively discussion of the open antagonism between the Culhanes.
At length, although the men were becoming drunk and boisterous and their women acquiescent, she dared not reenter the tinderbox atmosphere of the Culhane table. The men subdued their coarse
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